


Things You Said While Holding My Hand

by Elm (Xerethra)



Series: Biadore [2]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Relationship Study, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 08:32:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xerethra/pseuds/Elm
Summary: A collection of things Adore said while holding Bianca's hand.





	Things You Said While Holding My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from anon.
> 
> One glimpse contains Adore having a panic attack. I will mark the beginning and end of that episode.

_ The joints of Danny’s hips and knees protested as he knelt down, a small grunt escaping his lips as his knees borrowed down into the grass. He hunched his back over, leaned his slight weight on his left hand, the golden band glittering in the mild morning sun.  _

 

_ “Hey, Willow,” Danny said, a fleeting smile on lips that had lost its fullness, the fingers of his right-hand curling into the grass underneath him.  _

 

_ “So, Andrew just died. Yeah. Courm’s upset as fuck. Still perplexes me, when she is, you know? She was always the happiest and bubbly, wasn’t she, B? God, could it annoy me at times!” Danny chuckled, crows feet deepening at the corners of his green eyes.  _

 

_ “Anyhow, I’m moving in with the bitch. Cunt still thinks she’s a young puta and shit. She gonna break her hip, again, flirting with all the young dudes moving into the complex.” Danny’s lips pulled into a reminiscing smile, showing off still perfect porcelain teeth, tattooed knuckles brushing against the grass as he shifted his weight.  _

 

_ “Fuck!” He grunted, the hand still woven together with the grass tightening slightly.  _

 

_ “Bitch, the look I got just now. Some young ones. An old grump can’t fucking swear? Cunt, they shoulda known or lives, girl, shoulda know the lives we led… Did this bitch party or what. Girl, I miss it so much. I miss  you , Roy. I fucking do. I miss when we were young and carefree - can you believe I thought you were old as fuck when we first met?” Danny laughed, rolled his eyes at the naivety of the young kid he once had been.  _

 

_ “Anyhow. I should get back to Court. Hug my mum, and my brothers too. Love you, Roy, see you, baby.” Danny tightened the old of the grass underneath his palm before he let go, slowly shuffling himself up into a standing position.  _

 

_ “Party,” Danny said, releasing the strands of grass that had followed him up into the breeze.  _

 

 

 

 

Adore grabbed hold of Bianca’s hand, the older of the two glancing up sideways in a flash of surprise, fake eyelashes fluttering, the muscles of her arm twitching to pull away before relenting, rolling her eyes at Adore grinning down at her.

“You gonna win. Trust me, bitch, you gonna win,” Adore said, squeezing Bianca’s hand. Adore smiled, a more soft grin, head tilted slightly, as if to signal to Bianca her own acceptance that she, thus, wouldn’t be the winner, the blonde curls of her wig dancing in tune with her laughter, the shake of her head; that young, carefree breeze that time was nonexistent and that everything would be alright.

Bianca tightened her grip on Adore’s hand, a cramping need of that naivety, that long forgotten feeling of thinking you were undeadly, and the world was just yours. Adore swung their arms, not caring that Bianca’s palm was sweaty with nerves. 

“You’ve always been the winner in my eyes. I really don’t think you, like, realize how fucking amazing you really are, Biancs. You’re like, really insecure underneath everything, ain’t you? You’ll learn. I’ll teach you.” 

 

 

 

 

Danny grabbed hold of Roy’s hand, tugged him against himself amidst drunken giggles and the bass vibrating in their chests. Danny was drunk, high on life, his instincts reaching out for Roy to share the feeling with him. 

“I don’t dance, kiddo,” Roy protested, and Danny could feel the tenseness of Roy, the uncomfortableness Roy felt from having been pulled out of his comfort zone in a situation where he couldn’t joke it all away trotting around in heels and wigs. 

Danny pouted, released his hold of Roy slightly as he backed off, but he hugged the hand he still held in his. 

“Party, remember,” Danny said, full upper lip curling away from his teeth in an encouraging little smile alongside a nod. “Besides, I don’t fucking dance either. Have you seen me? You’re elegant as fuck, and I’m just… spazzing like a clubbed seal up in the Canadian arctic or somethin’.”

Roy snorted at Danny’s vivid, and quite right, description.

“Listen,” Danny said, a laugh vibrating in his voice as he used Roy’s safe word when he was up on stage. “We only live once! This moment never gonna come back. I’m not gonna force you, though, that ain’t cute at all.  _ Party _ .”

“If you want to be seen dancing with an old sad excuse of a clown - I’m gonna scare your trade away.”

“Shh, fuck off,” Danny responded, that wrinkle of disbelief worrying between his brows at Roy’s dismissal of himself, hugging Roy’s hand harder as Danny placed his other hand on Roy’s shoulder, a smile overtaking his face once more. “Besides, I don’t care. I’m happy right now. I’m happy with you.” 

 

 

 

 

The steady beating of Danny’s heart had lulled Roy to sleep. They were stretched out on the airport lounge floor, neither caring about the hundreds of thousands of feet that had stomped all over the piece of floor they occupied. Their plane had been delayed, and they were tired as fuck. Queens and assistants were spread out in the waiting area, carry on luggage and various personalities filling the space. 

They both were snuggled up in sweatpants and hoodies, Roy had pulled the hood over his head, shielding himself as best as possible from the outside world but Danny couldn’t help but to stare down at him nonetheless. Roy was always cute as fuck, but he was extra cute as fuck when he was asleep, and he always looked so damn young and innocent when sleep relaxed him. The fabric of Roy’s pants had bundled up over his calf, revealing shaved, brown smooth skin and the soft snores only Danny could hear made Danny want to giggle and hug Roy to death in a rush of affection. 

Danny brushed his fingers over the back of Roy’s hand resting on Danny’s chest, the tips of Danny’s fingers running over knuckles, down Roy’s fingers - those nimble hands that could produce clothes and costumes for Broadway, winning prizes, sewing dresses that made Bianca look stunning. 

“Fuck,” Danny breathed, holding onto Roy’s hand as Danny burrowed back against his rucksack, eyes fluttering closed, a soft, little smile teasing full lips. 

 

 

 

 

Adore grabbed hold of Bianca’s hand, threw her head back into a loud laugh as they lined up on stage. Adore jumped up and down on the spot, the movements tugging at Bianca, Adore’s free hand waving at the audience in front of them. Michelle’s voice boomed in the space, calling the names of each queen to give the last parade goodbye. The energy was high, the applause and cheers mingling with the feeling of finishing up yet another performance. 

Adore turned to Bianca, Adore’s grin written all over her face but it widened as Bianca smirked back at her, Bianca's contact-blue eyes sparkling, the whole of Bianca vibrating with the essence of life and beauty. Adore tightened her grip on Bianca’s fingers; her jumping stilled as her face softened into wonder. 

“I fuckin’ love you.” 

“What!?” Bianca’s already loud voice boomed in Adore’s ears, overpowering the loudspeakers, their sisters and fans. 

“You look cool as fuck, bitch!” Adore replied, her grin back, the bounce in her feet as she began to jump up and down in a mismatch to the background music’s beat. “You look cool - I love it!” 

 

 

 

 

**[TW: Panic attack. ]**

 

“There, that’s a good girl, that’s a good girl,” Bianca soothed, the skirt of her dress hitched up around her waist to make her kneeling position even possible, her pantyhose clad knees resting on the dirty floor of the backstage toilet, as Adore hiccuped. She was sitting on the toilet, body twisted and heavy in a broken doll fashion, her ribcage moving at a frantic pace. Adore’s limbs were shaking, the knee on which Bianca had put her hand jumping in overpowering distress, Bianca’s other hand resting against the flatness of Adore’s chest.

“Deep breaths, baby chola,” Bianca hushed, kneading Adore’s knee gently as Adore started empty-eyed, wide-eyed over Bianca’s shoulders. “Breathe in, four seconds, good, good, and out. There’s my baby.”

Bianca’s voice was droning in Adore’s ears, but a warm, comfortable buzz and her ragged, quick breaths changing into slower ones under Bianca’s guidance. The music from the stage was dampened in here, but Adore could still hear it, hear it and imagine all the fans crowding up the room, sisters and stagehands milling about backstage. 

“Hey, hey,” Bianca murmured as she felt Adore tense back up, her breaths puffing quicker again and Bianca shuffled herself further in between Adore’s legs to get closer. 

“You are safe, mija. Nothing’s gonna happen to ya. I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to ya, baby. You are safe, ya hear? Gimme a nod, baby.” Adore nodded, quick and urgent, her hand clawing at the sparkling shoulder of Bianca, clambering, searching for comfort and stability. 

“Good. Cuz you’re safe, and everything’s gonna be alright. This is just momentarily.” Adore was hulking, sniffing, a dam broken, perhaps even more so when she knew Bianca was right here to help her. She had never felt safe with anyone before, besides mom, and she had always suffered alone. 

  
  


“Baby, you don’t need to stay here, you know that? Nod if you understand.”

Adore nodded, but she nudged at Bianca’s shoulder. 

“Go, you should go, it’s your call time soon, go, go!” Adore urged, eyes back into a widened haze, the breathing that had begun to slow down speeding up at the thought of her being the cause of disruption and chaos, of paying fans missing out on Bianca. 

“Hey,” Bianca said, grabbing hold of Adore’s shuffling hand, taking it into her own, tracing the skin of the back of her hand with her thumbs. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna stay here with you.”

“But I’m fucking it up!” Adore whimpered, crushing Bianca’s hand with her own, shoulders shaking. 

“No, you ain’t. But tell me, what kind of pizza ya wanna have later?” Bianca asked. 

“Pizza?” Adore hulked, stirring slightly.

“Yeah. We gonna have pizza later, you and I. Whatcha want, sweetheart?”

“Cheese?” 

“Good. Cheeze. Somethin’ else?” Bianca encouraged, her thumb tracing patterns around Adore’s knee.

“Cheese an’ pepperoni?” 

“Wonderful. Something else?”   
  


“Lots of cheese,” Adore sniffled, and Bianca chuckled lightly, squeezed Adore’s knee. 

“That’s my girl. Lots of cheese and pepperoni. Gotcha, honey.” Bianca squeezed the trembling hand in her own, a smile on red-painted lips. 

“... Taco Bell?” Adore sniffed.

“Taco Bell!” Bianca repeated, shifting on her knees as Adore’s body slumped down against her, her nose buried in the nook of Bianca’s neck and shoulder, her hand in a cramp like grip on Bianca’s. “Tell me whatcha want from Taco Bell, sweetie?”

“Food…” 

Adore’s reply made Bianca bit back a cackle, her grip around Adore’s waist tightening. 

“Mhm. What kinda food?”

“B?” Adore mumbled, tears and snot wetting the skin of Bianca’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Thank you.”

 

[End of TW: Panic attack.]

 

 

 

 

Danny’s eyes glimmered with wonder as he tipped his head back to look up the Eiffel Tower. Roy was watching Danny, the younger grinning at the display of the light up the world-known monument in the Parisian night. Danny reached out to tug at Roy’s arm, the magnetic pull of the Parisian night making them both unable not to entwine their fingers with each other. 

“It’s fucking awesome,” Danny marveled, a young soul discovering the world.

“You’re pretty fucking awesome too,” Roy mumbled, a soft smile over pumped up lips he couldn’t hold back as he continued to watch Danny experience the world. 

“What?” Danny said, twisting, easing his grip on Roy’s hand so he could turn to face him, but refusing to let go as Roy tried to pull his arm back. 

“I said it’s pret -”

“I heard what you said,” Danny interrupted. Danny’s gaze jumped over Roy’s face, scanning his lips, his eyes, his expression. “I think you’re pretty fucking awesome too,” Danny said.

Roy tugged at Danny’s leather jacket, their lips crashing together, wooed by Paris’ magic.

 

 

 

 

Roy's shoulders shook with silent sobs. 

 

"It's just stress," Roy insisted. "Sorry, just gimme a minute." 

 

"Hey, hey, it's alright, baby," Danny murmured, the flatness of his hand running over the naked skin of Roy's back as he stepped into the open bathroom. Danny's hair tussled from sleep, eyes more half-closed than open, lips dry and pouty from being ripped away from sleep. 

"Hey, baby..." Danny murmured as Roy couldn't hold back the sobs he had tried to swallow when Danny had made his presence known, Danny's arms wrapping around his waist, pale chest pressed against brown back. Danny took Roy's hand in his, swayed them both lightly from side to side as Roy leaned back, the back of his head cradled against Danny's shoulder. 

 

"You don't have to pretend with me, Roy. It's alright. I'm vulnerable with you, and it's okay for you to be it with me too. I don't think any less of you," Danny whispered, gifted a kiss on Roy's forehead. "I love you. I love, I love you, I love you."

 

 

 

 

“I’m not making a mistake, Roy,” Danny said, his hands closing around Roy’s to keep him from fleeing. “Mira, I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I was in Seattle. We took a pause, gave us space, to think and shit on our own. And that’s what I’ve come up with. I’m not making a damn mistake. It’s not something forced just cuz we spent a shitload of time together for like ages. We barely talked all these months. And my heart still wants you, Roy.”

“You could do so much better -”

“Don’t even go there, fuckin’ don’t. Do you know how… looking down on me that is? You’re basically saying I really am dumb as fuck and can’t make good choices. Not to say that you’re fucking downplaying yourself too. But I don’t care. Maybe it is a mistake, but it’s mine to make. If you want me. I want you. I still do. I love you, Roy. But you can’t go around in our relationship feeling like you’re depriving me. I don’t want someone else; I don’t want someone better. I want  _ you _ . I want you with all your faults and flaws, Roy. I know you’re an emotional cactus that hates to be touched and shit, but I don’t care! I don’t care cuz you’re such a huge dork, you have a fucking heart of gold, and you get me like nobody ever has. I want your bad with the good, the good with the bad. I’m ready. I’m not that dumb little kid anymore. I know what I’m getting into.” 

“Okay. Okay. Let’s do it.” 

 

 

 

 

The golden wedding bands were glowing, sparkling fresh, their hands intertwined upon the crisp white sheet of the hotel bed. Danny’s fingers stirred with a moan, pale skin flushed, shining of sweat. They both refused to let each other go, needed to feel fingers against fingers, palm against palm as they moved and shuffled around the bed, disturbing the linen, the only care in the world the swelling of their hearts and souls as they tried to prove just how much they loved each other. Moans mingled with murmured sweet nothings, pants and deep-set grunts, laughter and skin moving against skin. 

“Love you.”

  
“Love you too.”

“Forever.”

“More than forever.”

“Eternity?”

  
“I’m good with that. In fact, that sounds perfect.” 

“Party!”

 

 

 

 


End file.
